A Jedi, a Mage and the Troubles
by The Dark Scribbler
Summary: Two deaths in Norfolk lead to a road trip to Maine for Jedi Knight Timothy McGee and fledgling mage Jethro Gibbs. Their destination? A town called Haven. Which has some... Troubles.
1. Chapter 1

OK. I'm working on the next chapter of the Terran Jedi and I make the mistake of watching the new (to the UK) series of Haven. Big mistake. The next thing I know, this damn thing falls into my brain and starts to make a complete pest of itself. So – I have another story to write. Oh – and I do not own these characters.

* * *

"I don't believe it!"

"Read it and weep, suckers. Full House. Sixes over Tens."

The sailors looked at the cards and then all groaned, whilst the grinning red-headed young sailor smirked at them. "God, I'm good," she muttered. "Lucky, but good."

"Yeah, yeah, crow whilst you can Jablonski. The day is young," the oldest sailor smiled. "We still have a chance to get back our would-be money."

"This would be so much more fun if we were playing for money," Jablonski muttered as she pulled the small pile of M&Ms towards her. When she looked up the three other players were all shaking their heads and pulling faces. "What?"

"You've never heard the Skipper tear a strip off a fellow crew member for gambling. The guy's great – best skipper I've ever served with – but he's got a bee in his bonnet the size of a Sentry about gambling for money. A friendly wager's one thing, but gambling for real cash? That's a no-no."

She looked at him and he could see the doubt in her face. "Really?"

"Really," he said forcefully. "I know you're new here on the Wasp, but believe me when I say that the Skipper's lecture on gambling is one that you don't want to hear. You met Eckers yet?"

She frowned in thought. "Machinists Mate. Got biceps like you wouldn't believe. I hear he has to shave twice a day."

"Yeah, and he grew up the wrong side of Hell's Kitchen. He's got stories from being a civilian that would scare an Iraq War veteran. When he was caught trying to arrange a little betting action on the Kentucky Derby the Skipper had a word with him. I found him in a bar afterwards, crying like a baby into his beer."

As she pulled a 'oh shit' face he picked up the cards and shuffled them rapidly. "OK, that's why we do this the way that we do. Everyone ante up whilst I deal."

Everyone pushed in an M&M and he started to deal with a flourish. Once he finished he picked up his own cards and peered at them. Not seeing any movement to his left he looked at Jablonski. "Hey, come on. You sulking or something?"

She was just sitting there with an odd, set, look on her face. She seemed to be looking at the middle distance. "Hey!" He repeated and poked her gently. She didn't respond at all and he peered at her more closely. She didn't seem to be breathing. "You ok?" He prodded at her again – and then she slumped slowly and bonelessly out of her chair onto the steel floor.

Whereupon all hell broke loose.

* * *

The elevator dinged as it opened and Leroy Jethro Gibbs stalked out of it and into the Bullpen of the floor where he worked in the NCIS headquarters. AS he walked he took a quick gulp of coffee and resisted the temptation to smack his lips and grin. Yup, it was the good stuff this morning from his favourite vendor. Enough caffeine to raise a victim of sleeping sickness.

"Morning boss," McGee said, looking up from his desk. The younger man looked neat and tidy and not at all tired after his evening patrol.

"Morning McGee," he grunted. Then he looked keenly at him. "Any joy last night?" he asked quietly.

"Two vampires and a would-be rapist," McGee said in an equally quiet voice. "The first were dusted and I used the Jedi Mind Trick on the second to persuade him to never ever do anything like that again. And if he does I have his name and address."

"Good job." Gibbs sat down at his own desk and started up his computer. The moment that the main screen came on he saw a flashing icon on it and he opened his calendar in response. Oh hell, today was the day of that damn meeting with the FBI. On the one hand it was always a pleasure to see his old friend Tobias. On the other this was a meeting to discuss how to co-ordinate their time and efforts in order to avoid having too many meetings. Which kind of defeated the purpose and which sounded all too like a Dilbert cartoon that McGee had emailed around the team the previous day.

"Morning Boss," said a new voice and he looked up just in time to see DiNozzo slump into his chair. He looked like a man who'd been ridden hard and put away wet and he guessed from the smirk on his face that his date with 'that totally hot barista chick with the tattoos' had been a roaring success.

"Good morning Gibbs," said a crisp female voice and he smiled and nodded at Ziva, who was looking disgustedly at the wreckage behind the desk opposite hers. "Tony. I see that your date went as planned? Oh wait, please don't regale us with the sordid details."

Tony smirked even harder. "She had a lot of tattoos," he said, his hands clasped around the back of his head. "And in some very interesting places."

"I'm with Ziva – please spare us the details," McGee said with a shake of his head.

"You're just jealous, young Tim. Just jealous." Tony replied with an even bigger smirk.

From the way that McGee tilted his head and then smiled quietly Gibbs guessed that McGee was nothing of the sort and then made a mental note to ask Abby what the latest gossip was about him. After all even a Jedi Knight had to have a personal life.

He leant back in his chair and looked the window thoughtfully. The past eight months had been... interesting. Discovering that vampires and demons existed had been alarming enough. The news that McGee was a Jedi Knight had been a bolt from the blue. And then there had been the little revelation that he could use magic. He'd known straight away that nothing would ever be the same again.

But oddly enough they'd been able to fit all this weirdness into their usual day-to-day lives. The supernatural hadn't raised its head that often. McGee's use of the Force had been a massive aid to their work. And his own talents and the senses that came with them had also been a benefit. Anyone stupid enough to tell a lie to either himself or McGee got rumbled instantly.

Much to their credit Tony and Ziva had also made things work. He'd been afraid that DiNozzo – the self-proclaimed Jedi Master of crime – would resent McGee's new talents, but the man's maturity had surprised him. He'd not just coped but he'd found a way of getting the best out of McGee. As for Ziva she'd adapted like the professional that she always had been.

He was jolted out of his reverie by the approach of Leon Vance. The Director had a thoughtful look on his face.

"The FBI on their way?" Gibbs asked with a sigh.

"Nope, Fornell just rang to cancel. Some kind of emergency. Apologised but said that he had an agent down."

Gibbs pulled a face. No Federal Agent ever liked to hear those fateful words. "Did he say how?"

"No – he was in a hurry. You know what the man's like. They'll reschedule."

"They sure will. Thanks Leon." The phone rang and he picked it up. "Gibbs." As he listened he looked around for a pen and made some rapid notes. Once the voice on the other end had finished he put the receiver down and then grabbed his bag and stood up. "Gear up. We've got a dead female sailor on the USS Wasp here in Norfolk."

* * *

Gibbs looked around the room with interest, before returning his gaze to the table and the cards on it. Oh and the pile of M&Ms. Heh. So people were taking Mackenzies' anti-gambling tirades to heart were they? Good. Then he looked at the dead body on the floor. That was the bad part of the day. A redhead too. Something was wrong about this, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps when there was no-one else around he'd have a quiet word with Ducky. He needed some more training on how to zero in on what his senses were telling him.

"What have you got Ducky?"

The old medical examiner sighed as he straightened up and peered at the liver probe in his hand. "Something of a mystery, Jethro. I cannot find a visible cause of death for this young woman. I estimate her time of death to have been around two hours ago, which is consistent with the statements of the witnesses, but I cannot see what killed her. No bruising, no blood, no sign of a struggle… it's as if she simply shut down for no reason that I can fathom."

Footsteps clattered over the floor, proclaiming the arrival of McGee, Ziva and DiNozzo. The latter spoke first. "All the witnesses said the same thing Boss. Early morning – 7.30am – poker game for off-duty personnel. They were playing poker for M&Ms, Jablonski was winning, they all anted up for the next hand, Petty Officer Third Class Morgan dealt the cards – but Jablonski didn't pick them up. She was unresponsive and looked, well, as she does now. Morgan poked her with his finger and she fell on the floor. When they saw that she wasn't breathing they summoned a Corpsman and he declared her dead. No struggle, no trouble, nothing."

"They're telling the truth Boss," McGee muttered quietly. "I can't sense that any of them are lying."

"Then what the hell happened to her? Drugs? Natural causes?"

"I'll know more once I get her back to autopsy and open her up," Ducky muttered, frowning at the liver probe.  
Gibbs followed his gaze and then gestured at the device. "Something wrong with it?"

"No, no, it's fine. It's just… well, the blood at the end seems to be a bit odd. How peculiar. I'll look into it once I get her back. Mr Palmer, the gurney please."

Gibbs scratched his forehead with his forefinger and then looked around the compartment. Something definitely felt odd about the whole thing, but he still couldn't work out why he was getting this odd vibe. "McGee," he said quietly, "You picking anything up with the you-know-what?"

Much to his credit McGee didn't looked around to make sure that they weren't being overheard. The man had learnt a lot in recent months, including not calling attention to himself. "Yeah. Something's… well, not wrong, but certainly not right. I just can't work out what."

Huh. Interesting. "Same here. Keep your eyes and ears open, people. This one smells a bit hinky as Abby would say."

* * *

By the time that they got back to the Navy Yard Gibbs' sixth sense was blaring at him and flashing its lights. He sank into his chair, watching as McGee started to research Jablonski's life and Tony and Ziva started to go through the witness statements. He caught sight of something blinking out of the corner of his eye and then noticed that his phone was telling him that he had voicemail. Sighing he picked up the receiver and after hitting the right button discovered a message from Fornell apologising for the delayed meeting. Hmmm. Tobias sounded a bit spooked by something. Hopefully their mutual ex-wife hadn't been in touch again.

A moment after he hung up the phone rang again and his eyebrows rose when he saw the caller ID. "What have you got for me Ducky?" he asked as he answered it.

"A mystery, Could you come down here please? And bring your team. You're all going to have to hear this."

"Will do." He replaced the phone yet again and looked at his team. "Ducky wants to see us all in Autopsy."

His team raised their collective eyebrows as well. "That was fast Boss," Tony frowned. "Ducky hasn't had the body for that long."

"Yeah," Gibbs said as he stood up and strode to the elevator. "That's what worries me too."

When they exited the elevator the found Palmer waiting on the other side of it. He had about five boxes of medical samples on him and he looked both weirded out and annoyed at the same time. "Samples for Abby," he said as he rushed past them into the elevator. "And he needs these done five minutes ago."

Entering Autopsy they found Ducky bent over the corpse of Seaman Jablonski with a fierce scowl on his face. He looked up as they arrived. "Ah," he said dryly. "We have a problem Jethro. I have a cause of death for this young woman. Unfortunately it's a rather unusual one."

Aha. This was why his sixth sense had been shouting in his ear all morning. "Unusual in what way Ducky?"

"Because Jethro, Seaman Jablonski died when every single molecule of blood in her body underwent instantaneous disseminated intravascular coagulation."

They all looked at him until he realised that they didn't have a clue about what he was talking about. "Her blood clotted instantly in her veins. And I mean every bit of it. I've checked as many veins as I can – and it's all clotted. Which is impossible."

"Wow," DiNozzo said almost dreamily. "A real-life Andromeda Syndrome."

"A what?" Ziva asked looking baffled.

"Andromeda Syndrome – a 1971 movie based on a book by Michael Crichton, the guy who wrote Jurassic Park. A bit of a slow burner given the – ah, shutting up now Boss."

"Thank you DiNozzo. Ducky, isn't it possible that someone could have fed Jablonski blood clotting drugs or something?"

"Yes, I did think of that Jethro. But the problem is that such drugs are by their very nature rather unpredictable, depending on people's metabolism. You'd need a massive amount of them to coagulate all of the blood in the human body at once. And such drugs would leave some form of initial trauma behind them – large blood clots, heart attacks, strokes, deep vein thrombosis. Such things would turn up on an X-ray. But not in this case. Besides, to get such a result you'd need to inject the drugs straight into a major artery, to ensure maximum and rapid dissemination throughout the body. I can't find any trace of any such injection."

"You're sure it was instantaneous?"

"Oh yes." Ducky pulled the body gently up to one side. "When we saw the body it had been on its back for at least an hour and a half. But there's no sign of blood pooling on the back. No sign anywhere at all. The blood couldn't pool because it couldn't move. Because it had clotted in her very veins."

Gibbs pulled a face. "Ok, so we've got a weird one. We passed Palmer in the corridor taking blood samples to Abby. Anything else?"

"Just this Jethro. I have never, in all my life, heard of anything remotely like this ever happening. Of course there's a first time for everything, but with no obvious sign of any possible mechanism for the delivery of any drug that could have clotted this amount of blood – well, something doesn't smell right. I'm going to ask around to see if any pharmaceutical company is trialling a new blood-clotting drug, just to be on the safe side, but I also suspect that there might be a supernatural cause. Which is, of course, why I sent young Mr Palmer off to Abby with those samples."

"He doesn't know about things that go bump in the night yet then?" DiNozzo said with a smirk.

"I fear that Mr Palmer is young enough to think that the world runs in a logical fashion," Ducky sighed. "Although I must say that I will be educating him as soon as I can."

"Right," sighed Gibbs, "I had a feeling that something was odd about this case. Well, we'll have to see where this one takes us. Ducky, if you find out anything new let us know. I'll drop by Abby's lab in a few hours to see if she has any results yet. The rest of you – keep digging. Except you McGee. You feel the need for a Jedi nap thing yet?"

McGee blinked, hard. "You want me to try and get a Force vision Boss?"

"Maybe. I've got a feeling that… well, I've just got a feeling at the moment, so I need to focus myself as well. Something's nagging at me. I get this sense that we're missing a piece in the puzzle."

* * *

When Gibbs got back to his desk he found a blinking light on his phone that meant that several more people had tried to call him. He glared at the damn thing and then finally gave in and checked out his messages. One call from an ex-wife complaining that he'd forgotten her birthday (not guilty – the Postal Service had fallen down on the job again obviously), one message from Vance's secretary reminding him about DiNozzo's appearance in court for the Grant case (that was going to be a good one) and a message from Fornell saying that he was now out of quarantine (say what again?) and could he please pick up the damn phone and reschedule that damn meeting.

So he picked up the phone and called Fornell. "What's this about getting out quarantine? You been overseas somewhere?"

"Precautionary measures. We've got a new ME who's a bit wet behind the ears and he panicked a bit. Well, kind of. It's been a hell of a day."

"I heard you lost an agent. Never a good day when that happens. Hope it wasn't anyone we know here." "You knew her. Helen Reynolds."

"Ah hell." He remembered her. Blonde, vivacious, young and a very professional agent. "I'm sorry for your loss Tobias."

"Yeah, well, it's worse because it happened right in front of me. We were in a 7.30am early morning meeting to discuss the latest crime figures for the area. She was talking about the statistics, she paused to advance to the next Powerpoint slide – and she never said another word. When I looked at her she was sitting there, dead in her chair, eyes open. Damnedest thing. Our ME's baffled. Wants to call Ducky."

Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment. And there it was. There were times when he hated his gut, or his magic-driven instincts, or whatever it was exactly. "What does he want to ask Ducky about?"

"Apparently Reynolds' blood clotted in her veins. Like I said – damnedest thing."

"Ah, hell."

"What's wrong?"

"Tobias, you'd better get over here. Bring your ME and the body as well. Ducky's got a seaman called Jablonski on the slab in Autopsy right now. She died this morning at 7.30am. And the cause of death was all the blood in her body clotting at the same time. Tell me that's not a co-incidence."

"Ah hell indeed. I'll talk to my Director. Then I'll come over. So much for a quiet day doing the paperwork."

"See ya later." He put the phone down and then looked at his team. "Ok, you heard. That was Fornell. The same thing that happened to Jablonski happened to a member of his team, Helen Reynolds."

"Oh crap no. She was cute."

Gibbs glared at DiNozzo, who at least had the decency to cringe.

"Sorry Boss."

"Thank you DiNozzo. Fornell said it happened at 7.30am, right in front of his eyes. He's coming over with the body and his ME. There has to be a connection between Jablonski and Reynolds. Pull Jablonski's record apart. Talk to friends, family, co-workers. Usual drill. Move it! McGee – do that thing I told you to do later."

"Yes Gibbs."

* * *

The rest of the day was something of a blur. Vance and Fornell's boss did their usual turf war (which Vance won, largely because Fornell knew that the FBI's ME was indeed so wet behind the ears that he shaved with a sponge), everyone either hit the phones or vanished off to interview people and Gibbs had to glue Abby back together after she failed to discover any trace of blood clotting drugs at all in the red powder/paste that was in the veins of both Jablonski and Reynolds. He hated to see Abby stressing about a failure and with two agencies involved she'd been doubly affected.  
Although she had reacted with relief when Ducky had quietly passed on his suspicion that the cause was supernatural. And then she'd inhaled a Caff-Pow and went looking for 'odd energy signatures' that might signal the presence of magic. Go Abby.

They finally caught a break when they all compared notes on possible connections between the two and it was of course DiNozzo who spotted it.

"A month ago Jablonski broke up with her boyfriend, Marine Sergeant John Frasier McNeill. She'd been going out with him for six months. Ten months ago Agent Reynolds broke up wither then boyfriend. Whose name just happens to be Marine Sergeant John Frasier McNeill. Coincidence? I think not."

"McGee, trace McNeill, now. DiNozzo – any reason cited why they broke up? Was he violent, threatening, abusive?"

DiNozzo pulled a slight face. "Just the opposite Boss. That's the odd thing. Jablonski's co-workers said that she said that he was a really great guy – kind, attentive and so on."

"I remember Reynolds talking about him once – she said the same thing," said Fornell, breaking in. "Then why the break-up?" Gibbs asked.

"Reynolds said that he was still holding a candle for his ex-wife," Fornell replied, frowning in concentration.

"Boss, that's exactly the same reason that Jablonski gave to her sister. He was still in love with his ex-wife."

Gibbs thought of Shannon for a long moment and then smiled sadly. "It happens," he muttered. "So – we need to pull McNeill in and question him."

"That'll be difficult Boss," McGee said as his fingers stopped skittering across the keyboard. He looked up. "Because Marine Sergeant John Frasier McNeill flew out of Ronald Reagan Washington National for Bangor, Maine, late yesterday afternoon. According to this he's on Emergency Leave. His ex-wife died."

Damn it, Gibbs thought. "Ok, so where's he heading?"

There was a burst of rapid keyboard tapping and then McGee looked up again. "A small town on the coast of Maine Boss. Called Haven."


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry about the delay on this - it's been a very busy fortnight. Disclaimer - I do not own these characters.

* * *

Tony's first reaction was, in retrospect, the obvious one: "Road trip!"

Unfortunately that instantly fell afoul of an amused look from Gibbs. "Yes and no DiNozzo. Yes for McGee, Fornell and myself. No for you and Ziva."

"But Boss-"

"DiNozzo, have you forgotten that you're both due in court today? The Grant case?"

DiNozzo closed his mouth and then bared his teeth in frustration. "Darn," he said eventually and in lieu of an earthier word. "Testifying in the prosecution of the world's dumbest would-be drug dealer. The man who was so dumb that he only discovered that he was importing laxatives when he sampled the product."

"And the poop hit the fan," said Ziva with a giggle. "Oh come on Tony, it should be a very entertaining trial. We'll have to try not to buck our guts laughing."

"Bust our guts, Ziva," Tony corrected half-heartedly. "Ah well. Too bad, I love a road trip."

"McGee – get in touch with Abby. I don't want to run into any nasty surprises at this Haven place. Find out if anything like this blood clotting event has ever happened there. Tobias – are we flying with real pilots or on some luxury piece of FBI crap?"

This bought him an amused look from Fornell. "Let me make some calls. The FBI does have a Learjet that's faster than the Navy transports with the bucket seats and the vomit bags that you love so much." He smirked and then left, pulling out his cellphone as he walked.

Once he was out of sight Gibbs looked back at McGee, who had been surreptiously typing at his computer. "Get down to Abby now and pull all the research that you can about this place, right now. I've got a sudden very bad feeling about it and I hate it when that happens."

As McGee disappeared towards the lift Gibbs stood and then jogged quickly up their stairs to Vance's office. He needed to warn Leon about this trip, just in case the Director of NCIS needed to turn a blind eye to anything.

* * *

Naturally the meeting with Leon morphed into a general meeting about several general operations which then resulted in a side trip to MTAC and a conversation with an idiot in the Pentagon about a covert ops situation that required more information being delivered than said idiot thought it merited.

When Gibbs walked wearily down the stairs he found a note from Tony on his desk. 'Gone to the trial with Ziva. Lucky us. Fornell said to call him at once about the flight. BUT – first go see Abby and McGee in Abby's lab. It's important.'

He looked at the note, frowned thoughtfully and then stomped off to the lift. As he stabbed at the button to get him down to the right level he pondered just why he was feeling so… odd. Well, perhaps odd was the wrong word. Unsettled perhaps? He had the feeling that they were dabbling on the edges of something larger than they thought.

For a moment he thought about Shannon and what his wife would have said about magic. She would have had great fun making up a string of new rules about that. And Kelly – well his little girl would have been intrigued. Given the fact that there was a good chance that she would have inherited his… well, gift, that would have made things even more interesting.

Which reminded him, he needed to have a word with Mike sometime soon. Given the fact that his retired friend knew a great deal about almost everything he needed to ask him if he knew about the supernatural. Chances were that the old bastard knew all about it, but had been 'protecting' him by being quiet about it.

The lift dinged, the doors opened and he strode out into the corridor. As he walked he frowned slightly. Interesting. No loud 'music', if it could be called that, from Abby's lab.

The reason for the silence emerged as he walked in. Abby and McGee were both staring, almost entranced, at the screen in front of them, which seemed to be filled with newspaper reports. By the way that Abby was knitting her fingers together, this was not a good thing.

"What have you got for me?" A simple question, but one which caused Abby to jump out of her skin and then spin around in an instant.

"Gibbs! This Haven place – you can't go there. It's… beyond hinky. It's super-mega-hinky with a side order of dangerous hinkiness attached to it!" Her hands flung out in front of her now, as she struggled to get the concept behind the words out. "I mean, it's off the scale hinky, if hinkiness had a scale, which I don't think it does, but I could work out a metric for it just in case."

"Abby…"

"That's a really interesting thought actually, to work out how hinky something is and then measure it on a scale, but I think I can do it and boy does this place expand the top of the scale and-"

"ABBY!" She froze and looked at Gibbs as if he'd just kicked a puppy in front of her. "What have you found?" Gibbs asked gently.

"Bad things, Boss, bad things." McGee said quietly. "A lot of odd things that have been covered up."

"Such as?"

"Well, if you look at the past two years, there's been a rash of mysterious explosions, one apparent tornado, one series of mysterious disappearances, followed by odd accounts of mere-people in the area, what seems to be an incident where trees attacked buildings and finally a highly localised seismic incident that levelled just the local lighthouse."

Gibbs looked at McGee, who pointed at some of the headlines. "Okay. And you said that someone's been covering this up? How did you work that out?"

"The local paper's called the Haven Herald and judging by the by-lines it's only got two people working for it – Vince and Dave Teagues. They write the stories and take the pictures themselves. And judging by the way that they downplay certain events that sometimes appear in other publications, they're suppressing how weird the place is."

"The earthquake," Abby broke in, waving her hands again, "The earthquake was a BIG giveaway. When the lighthouse fell to pieces they wrote it up as 'structural failure' and said that it wasn't a big deal. Problem is, it was. When lighthouses have accidents the Coastguard puts out automatic alerts saying that there's a hazard to navigation. They have to – a lot of amateur sailors and even some merchant shipping rely on those things. And as there's a lot of automation about these days they didn't know that when the lighthouse was automated they gave it a box of tricks that included weather instruments and a seismometer. The East Coast gets the occasional 'quake. Small ones, admittedly, but occasionally the odd medium one. The sensors went off the scale at the lighthouse just before it all collapsed – but nowhere else. A very powerful but very local earthquake? Yeah, right. Hinky."

Gibbs looked at the headlines again and then had a double-take. "What's this about a rain of marzipan?"

"Supposed to have been an explosion in a candy factory. That just happened to be miles away. On a Sunday. At 4am. Oh yeah, and the place doesn't even make marzipan."

"Ok," sighed Gibbs. "So – hinkiness. The place is odd. Crap. We're going to have to hide this from Fornell."

"I'm afraid so Boss," McGee agreed. "Plus if something does happen we need to hide it from him. Unless he already knows about the supernatural?"

This was a good point and Gibbs folded his arms and had a good mull. He couldn't remember Tobias ever mentioning anything that went bump in the night, but then his old friend could be damn closed-mouthed at times. Plus he was stubborn. He'd warned him against marrying Diane, but the damn fool had still done it. And people as stubborn as Fornell would often fail to shift their position when it came to admitting that perhaps they didn't know everything.

"I don't think that he does," he said eventually. "That said, I'm not willing to bet that he doesn't know. Tobias is a dark horse sometimes. Let's just get there and keep a close eye on things. And get to the bottom of this thing."

Abby wilted whilst at the same time looked steely. He often wondered how she could manage that. It couldn't be easy. Then she rallied slightly. "Ok, Gibbs. But please take care. And now, if you'll excuse us, I have to take my boyfriend into the next room and tell him to come back alive or he'll be in big trouble."

As she led a faintly blushing McGee into the other room Gibbs raised his eyebrows and then smirked. Well, he thought as he headed for the lifts, it took them long enough but they were there. He'd deliver the shovel speech later.

* * *

God, but he'd forgotten how much he hated the paperwork. Just being a detective was bad enough. He wondered, with a wry smile, how Dwight was coping with being Chief of Police in Haven. The paperwork for that position was worse. Ten times as worse.

Nathan Wuornos sighed and stood up to walked over to the window. It was raining in Haven, a soft drizzle that had smeared the glass with moisture. Leaning against the doorframe he stared out at the horizon. It had been a week since he'd come back from exile. A week since Duke had appeared with Jennifer, a girl who claimed to be linked to the Barn somehow, and told him that mad (but true) story about being in the Barn itself.

And still no sign of Audrey. He closed his eyes tiredly. Where was she? Who was she? Would she come back as Audrey, or would she think that she was someone else? What had happened in the Barn – what was the damn thing anyway?  
Could they stop the Troubles, the supernatural events that were affecting people in Haven, without her? He didn't know. And he hated that.

Knuckles rapped on the doorframe to his office and he turned to see Dwight in the entrance. "We have a problem," the Chief of police said grimly, before walking in, closing the door behind him and then sinking into the nearest chair. "I just got off the phone with an old friend of your father's. Marion Bruin, in the FBI office in Bangor. Apparently there the three federal agents on the way here."

Nate groaned and sat back down at his desk. "Does she know what they're here for?"

His question was answered with a headshake. "Nope. She just know that they're coming up from Norfolk and Washington DC."

This was odd. "Norfolk?"

"Only one of them is FBI. The other two are from NCIS."

"Navy cops? Here? What for?" Then a horrible thought struck him. "Oh god, don't tell me that Duke's been smuggling again and the Coastguard called in the big guns."

"Not as far as I know. She's trying to find out more. Discreetly, of course."

Nate smiled at Dwight with a humourless grimace. "Well, if we wish that the Troubles would die down whilst they're here we'll be damning ourselves, won't we?"

"Too right," Dwight agreed with a sigh. "I've got to head out and investigate a robbery on Copley Street. Can you have a word with Vince and Dave? We need a united front on this I think."

"Can do. I'll have a word with Duke too. Just in case."


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the delay on this, I've been working on my third book, which I published via Amazon Kindle this week. It's called 'Splinters - A Different Alamein' for those of you who are interested. Yay me! Oh and I don't own these characters. Drat!

* * *

McGee had to grudgingly admit that Fornell might have been right about the FBI having nicer planes. Even Gibbs raised an eyebrow and nodded when he saw the Learjet. It was a good thing that Tony wasn't with them, because he would have drooled all over the plane and then even more over the crisp, no-nonsense and extremely pretty female pilot.

Not that McGee was looking at her much. He had a feeling that Abby would be able to detect anything like that and would certainly pick up any guilt that he might radiate for even looking at another woman. She wasn't Force-sensitive and according to Gibbs and Ducky she didn't have access to magic, but she did have a certain indefinable something that made it a very bad idea to keep secrets from her. It had taken her a while to forgive him not telling instantly when he became a Jedi. He'd had to show her his lightsabre a few times.

Gibbs on the other hand did look at the pilot and seemed to have flown with her before, because he talked to her with an easy assurance that she obviously appreciated whilst they waited for Fornell, who was late. When he eventually did turn up he was clutching a thin folder and had a bad-tempered look on his face that precluded any questions, although Gibbs did look pointedly at his watch and then raised his other eyebrow.

Fornell growled something, flung himself in the chair and calmed himself before asking the pilot to get the bird in the air. He then proceeded to open the folder and direct a scorching glare at the contents, which should by all rights have combusted on the spot.

McGee exchanged a look with Gibbs as the plane taxied onto the runway. "Something the matter, Tobais?" the latter asked eventually.

Fornell turned a page with contemptuous flip of a forefinger and then grunted.

"I didn't quite catch that, Tobias."

The FBI agent scowled ferociously and then sat back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. "I've phoned ahead to Bangor to get them to send two cars to pick us up. You and McGee can take one. I'll meet you in Haven itself. I've got to kick the butts of the idiots in the Bangor FBI office from here to Canada – no, that's too short a distance, from here to Mexico – before I do anything else. Morons."

McGee and Gibbs shared another look. Fornell seemed to be pissed even by his standards. "You want to tell us why you're so angry with them?"

Fornell sighed. "Jethro, there are many things about my job that annoy me. Kidnappers. Rapists. Murderers. People who try to kill me. But what also pisses me off is when people pretend to be federal agents. And apparently there's one in this Haven place. According to this ridiculously thin file a few years back an agent Audrey Parker visited Haven due to a report about someone masquerading as an FBI agent there.

"There was – someone pretending to be her. Same name anyway. But for some reason the original Agent Parker didn't arrest the fake Agent Parker, didn't carry out a proper by-the-book investigation and violated a whole host of internal regulations! And then she had some kind of accident – on her own, let's fair, apparently there was no foul play – and ended up with amnesia."

He waved the slim file again. "And that's all that's in this fricking anaemic file. This whole thing should have let off loud alarm bells and flashing lights and instead it gets filed away under the 'slightly weird' section of the records. Where it should not be at all – this should have raised more of a stink than it did. Which worries me."

"Hence the butt-kicking down to Mexico," Gibbs said, pausing slightly to look out of the window as the plane suddenly accelerated down the runway with a roar of engines. "Not a problem Tobias. Try not to be too long though – I know how cranky you get when we solve a case before you even arrive."

"Very funny," Fornell growled. And he spent the rest of the flight either brooding over the file, staring out of the window or looking as if he was thinking new and innovative ways to kick people's butts to Mexico. And then possibly Venezuela. On the way to Peru.

When they landed at Bangor – and the flight had been just long enough for McGee to recharge his batteries with what appeared to be a nap but which was in fact a Jedi healing trance – a muttering Fornell disappeared off in his car, leaving McGee and Gibbs to load their bags into theirs.

By the way that Gibbs had grabbed the keys McGee knew that he was driving. So he embraced the Force to achieve a sense of balance in order not to spend the trip to Haven wincing, grabbing the dashboard and gibbering quietly, which had been his way of coping with Gibbs' driving technique before he had become a Jedi.

He'd never been to Maine before and he was struck by its resemblance to West Virginia. It wasn't the scenery that reminded him of the other state, it was more the sense of proud poverty in the people. It wasn't a rich state. It was a state of hard-working people. Oh and a lot of trees. Not that that was a bad thing, he thought as he looked out of a window and saw a road sign that said that Haven was just ten miles away. Although there was something that was…

He went white as a sensation of wrongness that he'd never felt before in his entire life cut through him like a knife and then vomited on his spleen. It was as if he'd been plunged into filthy water in an instant. There was a massive feeling through the Force that something was very, very wrong with the world suddenly and he fought to control his stomach and prevent it from coming out through his nose. He also had a sensation of sudden deceleration and he looked up from his own internal battle to discover that Gibbs had stood on the brakes and that the car was coming to a sudden halt on what was fortunately a road with no traffic behind them.

Gibbs was white as well, a white that was also touched with green. His mouth worked for a moment and he finally said: "What the hell was that?"

He looked at the older man, his eyes wide. "You felt it too?"

Gibbs stared down the road, his eyes very far away. "It felt like… dirty smoke blowing around me. Like… magic has curdled here." He was talking like a man whose vocabulary was insufficient for the task of describing what he was feeling, like man who was trying to describe what the colour yellow tasted like. Then he seemed to process what McGee had said and his eyes widened. "You felt something through the Force? What?"

"Like something was very, very wrong here," McGee said quietly. "It was like… being dunked in dirty water. This place feels… wrong. I can't put it in any clearer way right now. It's just…" He spluttered to a halt.

Gibbs directed a level gaze at him. "Yeah," he said, putting the car in gear and then getting it moving down the road to Haven again, "Something's wrong here. Good thing Fornell's not with us, he'd be peppering us with questions right now."

As the car accelerated Gibbs looked at McGee again. "You're not letting that lightsabre out of your sight are you?"

"Nope," McGee said firmly. He had his innards under control now and he was working hard on trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation as much as possible.

"Good, because I've got a bad feeling about this place. Get Ducky on the line. We need some advice. You know anyone you can call about this?"

He thought about Rupert Giles and Xander Harris and the others. "I think we'll be needing the speakerphone setting on my phone."


End file.
